All the ANZAC digger’s have all passed away.
Their memories are all that remain.
Like the clear rain drops, on the French Flanders plain.
And the ghost’s of diggers who remain to walk through the Menin gate.
As a military catafalque stands crest fallen at lone pine.
The sands of Gallipoli have returned many soldiers of Attar Turk.
Lying at their feet are good men of the wattle & silver fern,
Their beds on coloured sands surrounding hills like walls of confinement.
Brings still blue waters to this day!
Australians heart is beating strong this very day.
Our tears are raining down our faces.
Though the nights are cold, mornings light exposes the ache & pain.
Of a generation of gents who slept out without tents.
Under the stars or lying in a dirty trench amongst god knows what kind of Stench!
A snipers steel blessing, whizzing their way.
At Cobbers cove they held their arms up to the stars & pulled Australia’s sole, the Southern Cross into this place.
They still gather at the Furphy’s water cart.
Now they drink the tears of a nation.
You blokes of a young nation created in those short days.
Make us think of some sunnier days.
Their sons & daughters are marching today at the Anzac but now they are old & grey.
Hats, badge beaming the brass emblazon ANZAC rising sun!
So on this day we rise at the Gallipoli dawn.
Please look around as their hands of friendship & spirit nourish this land.